


But Most of All

by hesterbyrde



Series: Friendship is Unnecessary [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Blow Jobs, Catholicism kink, Established Relationship, F/M, Inaccurate Catholicism, Masturbation, Minor Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Minor Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, improper use of catholicism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:22:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23085457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesterbyrde/pseuds/hesterbyrde
Summary: "Synonyms are weird," Tony had opined as he helped himself to a scoop of mashed potatoes. "Because if you invite someone to your cottage in the forest, that just sounds nice and cozy, but if I invite you to my cabin in the woods, you're going to die."Laura had laughed out loud at that, which had prompted Clint to up the ante or else be upstaged in the wit department."My favorite is 'butt dial' versus 'booty call.'" he said with a ribald wink at his wife."Clint!" Laura chastised, through her cackling laughter at the same time that Bruce cringed and said, "It's called connotation!""Also," Natasha piped up, snagging Steve's eye with a clever glint in her own. "'Forgive me Father, for I have sinned' versus 'Sorry Daddy, I've been naughty."Steve's eyebrows shot up as he visibly was torn between a smile, outright laughter, and a blush so deep and vivid he looked sunburned."Jesus Christ, Natasha." Fury howled."Great news! Language is now cancelled." Tony announced, tossing his napkin on the table. "Can I help with dishes, Mrs. Barton? I suddenly feel unclean."
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Series: Friendship is Unnecessary [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1027472
Comments: 13
Kudos: 161





	But Most of All

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise! Happy Monday everyone!
> 
> Well, I finally got this sucker finished. Took me long enough, right? I've been toying with this for almost a year, ever since I saw someone use the Avengers with the "Synonym" meme on Tumblr. I can't even for the life of me remember who it was. But anyway... Natasha can't resist the chance to tease Steve about his Catholic upbringing, and hijinks ensue.
> 
> Many thanks to @kaminaduck for the beta read. As a former Catholic himself, he said he had a rollicking good time reading it.
> 
> And thanks to all of you who have been patiently waiting for this update, and faithfully reading along all these months. And to new readers too! Welcome!
> 
> Enjoy!

***

Dinner had been equal parts lovely and filling. Smothered pork chops, mashed potatoes, and green beans fresh from the garden with little bits of ham floating in the broth. It was exactly the sort of comfort food The Avengers all had needed after having that little Sokovian witch rummaging around in their brains. 

For awhile talk stayed away from work. They all ate and laughed like old friends. 

Friends. 

That's what they were. Old, normal friends with normal problems and normal amusements. Not gods and scientific marvels. Not trained assassins and master spies. Just friends… who always ate dinner together like this. 

Clint kindly kicked the ass of anyone dumb enough to challenge him to a round of darts. Lila drew pictures for everyone and hung them proudly all over the fridge. And the conversation had been almost entirely benign. Funny even. Plenty of rollickingly bad jokes and amusingly astute observations from Tony.

"Synonyms are weird," Tony had opined as he helped himself to a scoop of mashed potatoes. "Because if you invite someone to your cottage in the forest, that just sounds nice and cozy, but if I invite you to my cabin in the woods, you're going to die."

Laura had laughed out loud at that, which had prompted Clint to up the ante or else be upstaged in the wit department.

"My favorite is 'butt dial' versus 'booty call.'" he said with a ribald wink at his wife.

"Clint!" Laura chastised, through her cackling laughter at the same time that Bruce cringed and said, "It's called connotation!"

"Also," Natasha piped up, snagging Steve's eye with a clever glint in her own. "'Forgive me Father, for I have sinned' versus 'Sorry Daddy, I've been naughty."

Steve's eyebrows shot up as he visibly was torn between a smile, outright laughter, and a blush so deep and vivid he looked sunburned.

"Jesus Christ, Natasha." Fury howled.

"Great news! Language is now cancelled." Tony announced, tossing his napkin on the table. "Can I help with dishes, Mrs. Barton? I suddenly feel unclean."

There was another round of laughter around the table at that. Steve was still blushing, and Tony was obviously and hilariously uncomfortable. Clint actually high fived Natasha for her triumph. And then it was right back to conversation and clinking of dinnerware. If the Avengers were ever a family, it was in that moment. A pile of friends, or perhaps even siblings and cousins more than they were colleagues, ribbing and one-upping each other… eating and telling stories… 

_If only it could always be this way…_ Natasha found herself thinking. All the stings of the day… the rejections and the resurfacing memories… it all seemed to fade in the dim light of the cut glass lamps that hung over the Barton kitchen table.

_Enjoy it._ she told herself as she rocked back in her chair. _Things like this never last…_

***

Steve had just climbed into bed when there was a soft knock on his door. So soft he actually thought it might be one of Barton's kids needing something from his room. He had been stashed in a guest room for the night, but the kids' toys seemed to be all over the house.

"Come in." He said drawing up the covers a little. He was decent in a t-shirt and shorts borrowed from Barton, but it was still pajamas. And they were a little tight.

He was surprised when Natasha, clad in an adorable set of matching floral print pajamas, poked her head around the door. Steve could only guess that the sleepwear was courtesy of Laura. The only thing he'd ever seen her sleep in was her sheets. And maybe a pair of underwear. Maybe.

"Hey." She said, with a half-smile.

"Hey Nat. Need something?"

A curious combination of an awkward smile and a thoughtful frown bent her features. "A place to crash, actually." she replied, slipping through the door and shutting it behind her. "Laura kind of… gave my room to Bruce with the assumption that…"

"That you two are sleeping together." Steve filled in. 

"Correct."

"And you… aren't?"

"No…" She drew the syllable out.

"I mean it would be fine if you were." he said quickly, holding up his hands. "I didn't mean to-"

"Oh, no no no… it's just…" She trailed off, leaning back on the door with her arms folded.

"Not happening."

She lifted one shoulder. "Maybe? I just… I don't know if now's the time to get that started." she said. "There's… kind of a lot to unpack. For both of us. Might want to wait til… y'know. We're not about to be massacred by killer robots."

Steve gave a considering, weaving sort of nod. "Well, when you put it like that, the assumption on Laura's part does seem a little silly."

She shrugged again. "I mean… she knows the gig. It's always something. I guess time will tell on this one." She said, though it was fairly clear from her posture she wasn't holding out much hope regardless

"Well, of course you can crash in here. Here." Steve went on, bouncing off the mattress to get to his feet. "You can have the bed and-"

"Steve." She stopped him midmotion with nothing but his name and an exasperated look. "Can… I be blunt with you right now?"

"Of course." he replied, sinking down to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I have had enough of the men in my life second guessing me today. And I'm not kicking you out of your bed."

"Alright." he said softly. Something like relief briefly flitted across his chiseled features as he relaxed back onto the mattress and swept the covers aside. "Well… make yourself at home then." he said. She finally smiled then as she stripped out of the pajamas as she moved through the room, leaving them in a little flower-printed trail behind her. 

Steve watched her, something unfurling in his chest. She was gorgeous as always, especially in the warm light of the little bedside lamp. But there was something more deeply intimate about this. Something about the tiny bed. Their family nearby… all around them. The soft pajamas on the floor. The old-fashioned wallpaper and long-lived furniture surrounding them. The soft amber glow of the lamp tucking soft shadows in around Natasha's beautiful features. He was still mesmerized as he pulled her into the circle of his arms, feeling a flush creep up into his cheeks as her lush curves fit themselves along the taut lines of his body. God, she was so soft. He kept forgetting how soft…

"I really got you tonight." Natasha said, pillowing her head on his shoulder. "With the synonym thing."

"You did." he said, that old mischievous smile creeping into his features anew.

"I admit I'd forgotten you had been raised Catholic until it was about halfway out of my mouth."

"And now I can never go back to church because every time I go to confession I'm going to remember you said that and start laughing."

"You mean nothing in the canon of Catholic dogma ever made you giggle before?" Natasha arched an eyebrow.

"I mean… I never really thought about it?"

"Jesus, you're an innocent soul, Rogers." Natasha said, flopping onto her back for a moment. "All the whipping and the groveling around on the knees. It's some kinky shit from the outside, dude."

"Oh fuck me." Steve groaned, covering his face.

"Come on, man. I mean… look just listen to the rite of confession!" She propped her chin once more on his chest. "'O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell, but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve with the help of thy grace to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life.'" She'd gradually been kissing and nibbling her way up his chest with every phrase that passed her lips, tattooing her playful contrition into his skin all the way up to the side of his neck before dropping unceremoniously and giggling onto the pillow beside him. "Seriously… that is some humiliation kink if I've ever heard it!"

"Oh what he fuck, Romanoff! Why the hell do you even know that?" Steve sputtered, half laughing and half gaping in only slightly sanctimonious scandal.

Natasha lifted one shoulder still grinning like a bandit. "I went undercover as a nun for SHIELD years ago. Had to do the whole bit for a month."

Steve just blinked. "You what?"

Her smirk grew teeth as she half rolled on top of him. "You're seeing it, aren't you Rogers? Me in a habit. On my knees." When he blushed she gave his broad shoulder a teasing shove. "You are! Holy shit! You can see it in your head and it's making you think all sorts of filthy things. Look at you. You're blushing like a virgin at a strip club." She flopped onto her back again, barely stifling a full on cackle.

"God _dammit,_ Romanoff!" Steve groaned, covering his flushed face with both hands and laughing, though nigh soundlessly. His ribs heaved though. It was his rendition of a church-pew laugh. He was trying to stifle it so as not to wake anyone else in the tiny farmhouse, but that only made him laugh all the harder until he was whining and gasping for air.

Natasha watched, letting the warmth of their shared ridiculousness spread its tendrils through her heart. They'd both been in such awful shape when they'd arrived. She didn't know what that Sokovian girl had shown Steve, but if it was anything like what she'd seen…

Sure, he hadn't been a KGB operative trained from the cradle to kill, but that didn't mean there were no horrors in his history. She knew that there was pain that lay buried under decades of ice, and moreover, she knew carried guilt when she saw it. And she'd read his file, even if he hadn't read hers, 

At least she didn't think he had.

Natasha ran her hands up his chest, fingers playing over his still-clothed nipples. "Oh dear. I seem to have made the morally unassailable Captain America swear." she said, with a mockingly prim and proper lilt to her voice. "What ever shall I do?"

He peeked at her from between his fingers as she pulled herself across his chest again, resting her chin on the arch of his ribs and staring up at him with mischief glinting like daggers in her eyes.

"Natasha…" her name was half a warning and half a plea.

"I suppose I should beg forgiveness." she said, pulling herself smartly astride his thighs. "Maybe put all those prayers and such I had to learn to good use. Hmm?"

Steve was still blushing. His cheeks and his neck, and even all the way up to the tips of his ears. But it was obviously for a different reason now. He'd peeled his hands away from his face, reaching out to draw her to him. His fingers sank into her russet curls as she folded down over him and he kissed her, tongue expertly parting her lips and drawing out a pleasured little sound.

She smiled into the kiss. "Shall I beg forgiveness?" She purred as his hands found her breasts, which swayed invitingly in his face. He kissed them. Nosed at them. Let their weight puddle in his hands for him to squeeze and bury his face against.

"Maybe I should do it on my knees." She said, lips against the shell of his ear. "And maybe… Maybe a prayer in English isn't good enough. Perhaps I should do the whole thing in Latin instead."

"Oh fuck." Steve swore back arching until only his hips and his shoulders pressed into the bed.

"Oh dear." Natasha said with sweetly false distress. "Maybe a few times through it then… Let me know when you think I'm done, hm?"

He gaped at her, cheeks burning and eyes kindled. She kissed him again, her lips lingering over his before slipping down along the line of his jaw. "Deus meus, ex toto corde pænitet me omnium meorum peccatorum..." she whispered between kisses and little kittenish licks of her tongue across his pulse. He groaned and chased the sensation, but her words startled a laugh out of him. And through it all, his hands held her fast against him. That was all the encouragement she needed.

"Eaque detestor, quia peccando," She continued, biting playfully at the fabric of his shirt. "Non solum pœnas a te iuste statutas promeritus sum."

"Natasha…" Steve's hands were bunching in the sheets, and pulling at her shoulders though he did nothing to truly stop her slow descent.

"Hush." She admonished with mock seriousness. "I'm praying for forgiveness for debauching you so with thoughts of me on my knees." She gave a meaningful little wriggle, tightly bracketing her knees alongside his thick thighs. A rather impressive erection was tenting the front of his sleep shorts now, and Natasha was gradually making her way towards it with her kisses. It would be her idol this evening. And what a worthy one it was...

Natasha hunched down over his hips, elbows to either side. Perfectly pronounced Latin still poured from her lips as she leaned down to kiss the bulge swelled in Steve's pants. He hissed, and her name came out again, sounding ten times more prayerful than she'd ever been in her life.

"Natasha…"

"Sed præsertim quia offendi te," She went on, lipping lightly at the fabric and watching his length strain in its confines. "Summum bonum, ac dignum qui super omnia diligaris."

Steve could feel the heat of her breath and the vibrations of the words tickling his cock even through his pajamas. He ached with it, flushing now from sternum to hairline as he fought the urge to grab her and force himself down her throat. Ah, but this torture was so sweet if also utterly ridiculous. It was sweet _because_ it was so ridiculous. One of those things shared and laughed about later, much to the confusion of anyone else who happened to be sharing the conversation. Something to be cherished… hoarded and loved...

Steve's hips gave a mighty, almost bucking shudder that he nearly failed to contain, and she finally had some level of mercy on him peeling back the waist band of his shorts. His cock jumped as it pulled free of his clothes and smacked against the plane of his stomach, leaving a wet patch on his skin. Natasha wasted no time in expertly licking it up, barely brushing the tip of his cock with the point of her tongue as she whispered, "Ideo firmiter propono, adiuvante gratia tua…"

He just groaned, his hands sinking into her hair. But he didn't pull. He just needed a handle. Something to hold onto. Something to anchor him because he was liable to go crazy...

Natasha's clever green eyes locked with his as she sumptuously licked her lips. "de cetero me non peccaturum," She went on, laying kisses along his flushed length between each word, making his breath come in short stabbing pants. "Peccandique occasiones proximas fugiturum." And finally she took him in hand, squeezing him root to tip before whispering, "Amen."

She sucked him down in a single pull of her wicked mouth, and the overwhelming sensation had Steve bowing up off the bed to chase it until he could feel her throat closing around the head of his cock. She moaned, a choked sound that he couldn't quite parse through the haze of pleasure filling his head.

"Sorry… sorry…" He ground out.

She pulled off just as quickly as she had sucked him in, the cold air making him gasp. "I'm the one contritioning here, Steve. Can you let me have my communion in peace?"

He laughed a little, a bewildered and beguiled sound, and nodded, pretty pink lips gaping as she pulled him into the wet warmth of her mouth. He choked on that mingled laughter and ecstasy. This really was utterly ridiculous, and he was loving it. She was teasing him… not just sexually but as his friend. Someone who knew him well enough to truly rib him even as his cock was halfway down her throat.

"Natasha…" Her name fairly dripped from his lips unbidden. He carded his hands through her russet hair as she worked his length in her clever mouth. The flat of her tongue curled and pressed up his pulsing shaft as she swallowed around the head again and again. She had him on that edge in just a few pulls of her lips, but her fist was around the base of him, staving off any chance of orgasm until she was done.

_Until she was done…_

That thought would have had Steve over the edge in an instant. He was just her plaything right now. An amusement for her. A welcome distraction from everything…

A safe place to play. To just… be herself for a bit.

He chanced to look down, his vision blurring a little with a surge of desire when he saw her soft lips stretched around his swollen cock. But even more arousing than that was the fact that one hand had disappeared between her legs. Holy fuck. She was touching herself while she sucked him off.

"Natasha…" he groaned again. "Fuck, I want you."

She pulled off him, her fist replacing her mouth, slick with spit that had escaped her as she'd worked him. "How do you want me? You wanna come like this?"

He shook his head. "You on top." he said breathlessly. 

"Keeping me on my knees, I see." She said, giving his length a parting lick before scrambling astride his hips. With perfectly familiar ease, she lined him up and sat on his cock, hissing with pained fulfillment as she did so.

Steve grunted at the sudden pleasure of it, her walls clenching hotly around him as she adjusted to his girth. She liked that he was big. She liked _feeling_ that he was big. He'd spent a long time being afraid of hurting her, but he'd learned to trust that she craved the weight and thickness of him. Craved feeling full and stretched. Craved that sweet ache.

Natasha set up a rhythm almost instantly. A slow, cupping roll of her hips that had him sliding against all her most sensitive inward places. She flattened her hands to his chest, fingers slipping over his nipples as she rode him with head tossed back and breasts bouncing. His hands were on her too, cupping and cradling and kneading every sumptuous curve.

One of Steve's hands wandered inwards along her hip until he reached where they were joined. He rested his fingers in the crease of her thigh letting his thumb caress the place where he was buried inside her… and then he found her clit. She bucked and lost rhythm when she felt the supple slide of his thumb over her clit, nails biting into his skin for just a second before she regained control.

"Get yourself off on me, Natasha." Steve coaxed, his voice rough at the edges. "You want it so bad. I know you've just been working me up so you could have me."

She gave a whine that sounded equal parts need and complaint, but she did as she was told. She redoubled her rhythm, grinding herself onto his length and against his thumb. Her thighs shook. Her pretty lips parted as she panted for air.

"That's it. That's it." he encouraged, pulling her over him so he could sink one hand into her hair and hold her fast against him. "This what you wanted, Nat? You wanted to tease me up so you could ride me like this."

She nodded, her face pinched with effort. She didn't have enough air for words but she nodded, face buried against his shoulder as she kept fucking herself on him. There was another handful of stuttering thrusts and she came, back bowed and nails dug in, thighs trembling and squeezing around his hips as she clutched up so tight around him.

"There you go…" Steve half crooned at her, rocking her over him. "That what you needed?"

She nodded again, her tongue painting her parted lips. "Did you…?"

He shook his head.

She gave a rippling roll of her hips that had her gasping with overstimulation. "I want you to come in me, Steve."

"You do?"

"I do. However you want."

"However…" he panted.

"You want me like this? Or maybe on my face? Push me down on the mattress?" she tempted, each option delivered with a little swivel of her hips. She looked sinful, for all her playing at piety. Eyes blown black and hair mussed by his hands. And a pretty post-orgasmic blush spreading across her swaying breasts.

Steve debated for a moment, eyes hazy and lip caught between his teeth. Then he rolled her on the bed, tucking her underneath him and spreading her legs wide around his waist as he buried himself inside the tight warmth of her pussy. His hips stuttered at the apex of the thrust but he quickly schooled himself. Suddenly, he wanted this to be about her. She was making it about him, but she deserved nothing less than for his passion and pleasure to be about her.

So he spread her out underneath him, and fucked up into her syrup sweet and slow. Kissing the peaks of her breasts. Nibbling the sublime architecture of her throat and collarbones. Cradling and holding her so he entered her smoothly and gently with each thrust. God, it felt like she was made for him, squeezing and stroking him just right.

"Steve…" she whispered, her voice falling out from under his name.

"You have no idea how good you feel, Nat." he said, pressing kisses into her pulse. "I'm gonna come so hard…"

Dirty talk like this was not really a thing Steve ever did, and it seemed to catch them both by surprise. Her just by hearing it, and Steve by the impulse. But she'd worshipped him so expertly, she deserved the same treatment. She'd had a really rough day. Not only had she been mindfucked by the Sokovian girl, but she'd faced a hard rejection from Bruce on top of it. 

And she'd come to him for comfort. 

Steve stared down at her with soft eyes as he thrust and thrust, feeling his need growing more urgent with every pump of his hips. She stared up at him too, hair spilled across the pillow and fingers playing over the taut lines of his shoulders. 

"Come for me, Steve." She whispered, her voice gone husky and faint.

"You're so warm and tight, Nat… God, I'm… you're so good to me. I…"

He felt her fingers slide down between them and he drew back a little. She was touching her clit, rolling it in tight little circles. 

"Give it to me." she begged. "I'm so close…"

Just a few more tight, shuddering thrusts and Steve felt his whole body draw up taut as his orgasm overwhelmed him in a fevered rush. He buried himself in Natasha and he could feel her clutching up tight around him as she came as well, the walls of her pussy milking him dry. 

As the haze of their shared pleasure faded, neither of them found themselves able to do more than lie in a sweaty, panting pile. Steve didn't even move off of her. He just let his cock slip free as he kept kissing her collarbones. Kissing her chest… and her hair… 

God, he treasured her...

Natasha had sensed his change of demeanor. She cradled his jaw and drew his face up to hers, his skin still a handsome scarlet. "You okay? You kinda… went away there for a second."

He kissed her sweetly on the lips and smiled down at her, glassy-eyed and a little pleasure-drunk. "I was nowhere but here. Promise."

She kissed him then, and they both rolled to their sides. For a space they just breathed and lay there, basking in the comfort of their closeness. Then Natasha rolled gracelessly out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, returning a moment later with a washcloth to wipe them both up. They got back into their pajamas, lest a wandering Barton child happen upon their room in search of toys, and collapsed back onto the mattress together.

"It's really alright if I sleep in here?" She asked.

Steve arched an eyebrow at her. "I'm not kicking you out of my bed. Though your jokes are still terrible."

"Brain's not working so well at present, but I'm sure I have more."

"I'm sure you do. You were fucking Clint Barton once upon a time. I'm sure they ah… rub off?"

"Now who's telling terrible jokes." Natasha replied, slipping into the space Steve made for her between the sheets.

"Maybe I'm getting them second hand." Steve replied with the warmest of smiles.

For a moment they just lay there facing each other, Steve's hand playing through her hair and Natasha caressing his lower back. It was wonderfully comfortable. Wonderfully normal. They didn't do this often. Often enough it wasn't weird, but not so often that it was routine.

And yet here… in this little farmhouse, it felt routine. Like they could just drop off and not say anything more.

Perhaps that meant that they should say something before drifting to sleep...

But Natasha stretched up, catching Steve's lips with hers for just a breath before she snuggled down under the quilt with her nose resting in the hollow of his throat. Steve rolled back and flipped off the bedside light before gathering her against his chest again and heaving a contented sigh. 

He too felt perhaps something should be said. It perched formless behind his teeth, but in the end he followed Natasha's lead and dropped a kiss onto the part of her hair before he relaxed around her and against her and let sleep claim him.

***

Natasha woke up feeling quite stiff, owing mostly to the fact that she found herself rousing in the exact same position she'd fallen asleep in. Draped across Steve like a second blanket, legs tangled together and her cheek resting on the join of his shoulder. There was even a little spot of drool on his t-shirt. 

Wow. She hadn't slept that hard in weeks. 

She shifted against him slightly, pillowing her chin on his breastbone and looking up at him. His brow pinched a little as she moved and he shifted too, but he didn't rouse. His limbs were still lax, though they curled securely around her, and his head turned towards her on the pillow. Eventually the pinch of his brow melted away again, and he actually snored a little.

So for the space of a precious few breaths, she took him in like that. Still sleeping. Still unaware. She rarely had an opportunity to just look at him like this. To notice all the fine details. The shadow of his jaw. The rhythm of his breathing. The thickness of his eyelashes. That last was unfair honestly. She could wear all the mascara she wanted, and she'd never have eyelashes as lush as his. 

He was beautiful.

And in that moment, with just the morning sunlight and the dancing motes of dust in the air for company, he was hers. And she was his. Not permanently. Not possessively. Just… for this moment they were each other's. All their strength and skill was nothing more than a lazy tangle of limbs and shared space. And it was nice, if she was being honest. Nice to just be. It didn't happen often.

And seemed to be happening less and less the closer they'd got to the scepter.

There had been a shift at some point. She wasn't sure when. Sometime after Steve had moved into Stark Tower maybe? Natasha would probably be able to pinpoint it if she really thought about it. At some point this had become more than blowing off steam after missions, or just enjoying each other's company. And more importantly and perhaps more tellingly, they hadn't fought it. It just was, and they just were, and they had what they had. And frankly she didn't really care to parse it any further. She just wanted to enjoy it. Enjoy being together like this… while it lasted...

Eventually Steve did come to, stretching beneath her before curling on his side and pulling her even closer. Their legs slotted even more tightly together as his arms curled around her back. He hadn't even opened his eyes yet. He'd just pulled her to him on instinct. His first breath of the morning had come filtered through the fall of her hair.

And it made Natasha smile. She lightly scratched her nails over his skin, feeling him press into the contact with a contented hum. And then he went lax again, limbs draped heavily over hers. She kissed his chest as his breath grew heavy again. She was almost convinced he was drifting off if it wasn't for his hand, painting slow caresses over the curve of her ass. 

He might not be awake… but she could tell where this was headed. 

She slid her hand down his thigh, scratching up towards his hips and watching as he followed the motion. She repeated, slipping her hand a little closer to his cock this time, and she was rewarded with a little sigh from his parted lips.

That was all the invitation she needed. Her next move was much more bold. She dragged her fingertips up the length of his clothed cock, testing and teasing all at once. He wasn't fully hard, but her instincts were correct. Her next stroke was more insistent. And the next, and the next. Now under his clothes... Until she cupped him in her palm and began to slowly stroke his length in a loose fist. He was following her with eyes still closed and arms still wrapped limply around her. But he was getting hard. Wonderfully and irresistibly hard.

Speaking of irresistible…

Natasha shimmied down the narrow mattress and gently pushed him onto his back. She hooked her fingers into his underwear and pulled his cock free. He still had a little ways to go, but that was no problem for Natasha. He was a little big for her to take comfortably in her mouth anyway, so she always relished the chance to rile him up this way.

And rile she did. First with slow painting strokes from root to tip. Over and over until his length was shiny and straining against her tongue. His hands found her shoulders, not to direct but as if he thought he might float away from her.

Or perhaps her from him.

His hands tensed as she sucked the cherry red head of his cock into her mouth, eyes fluttering closed as she did so. She loved the way it felt like the world would narrow around her as she did this. Even more assurance that nothing existed in this world but them. The feel of the sheets. The kick of his pulse on her tongue. The taste of him leaking eagerly into her mouth.

"Get up here." he said after a minute, drawing her up over his chest. His face was flushed a pretty pink, the blush spreading like ink down this chest. 

"Want something?" she half crooned, before giving him a parting flick of her tongue and allowing herself to be dragged astride him.

"To hold you." he said, clumsily tugging her out of her sleep pants..

She would have paused for thought at that. At such a sweet, and nigh innocent request. Innocent even though he was clawing her free of her clothes.

But without thinking, she was already sliding down onto his length, her pussy still wet and swollen from the night before. This always felt so good. Better really than anything. The sensation of being split so delicately in two, mixing with the memory of being rutted up so expertly the night before… it was a heady kind of bliss that she craved. And it ate up all coherent thought she might have had.

And he held her. His cabled arms wound around her slim shoulders and he squeezed her tight against his chest as she rocked down on his length. He held her so close that her face was pressed against his throat, her breath coming in pants that matched the jump of his pulse as it beat against her cheek. The intimacy of it shocked her, and she dug in her nails as he thrust deeper, burying her face against his skin and letting one word escape her…

"Steve…"

Oh, it was wonderful to feel so secure. To feel so tightly wound up and so intimately wanted. Her nails ate into his skin as she rocked back and forth back and forth, riding his cock until she was gripping up tight around him. 

"Natasha…" her name mingled with his in the still morning air. He wasn't going to last long. There was an edge in his voice. A fraying. A crack… he was going to come undone and so was she.

One hand found her lower back, holding her just so in order that he might thrust up into her. Everything grew tight and then…

A collected gasp…

A squeeze…

And a tandem sigh…

All shared between them before they relaxed back down into the old pillows and quilts.   
Natasha caught her breath and propped herself up. And for a moment, with her knees hugged against his ribs and her hands cradling his face, she saw what he'd seen when that Sokovian girl had tugged at the frayed edges of his headspace. She didn't see the exact image of course. But she had seen the outline of it. The nature...

Maximoff had shown Natasha her greatest fear in a way. The thing she didn't want. What she didn't want to be.

But whatever it was she'd shown Steve… it was something he craved. Something he wanted. And in a way, it was his fear she'd aroused but not the way she had Natasha's. No no no… Natasha feared what she might become. Steve feared he would never again have what was lost to him… probably something from before. Something he lost when he went into the ice.

Peggy.

And his friend Bucky.

Oh…

"Hey… you alright, Nat?"

Steve was frowning at her.

"Yeah... " she said, her words still laying a little thick on her tongue as her orgasm still fizzed slightly in her brain. 

"You kinda drifted on me for a second there." he said, cupping her cheek.

She smiled at him then. She couldn't help it. "I was never anywhere but here. Promise."

"Good." He said, his arms drawing up tight around her again. So tight. Rib-crushingly tight. Captain America tight. "I like you here."

Natasha buried her face in his chest once more, and after a moment she felt his arms start to relax again… his breathing growing heavy. Like he might be drifting off again. Like the comfort and the sunshine and… her… like these things meant safety and like he might sleep for a little while longer…

Like he might like to stay here.

But then he squeezed her, not as hard as last time and probably more to rouse himself than anything if she had to guess.

"Come on. If I stay here I'm going to fall back to sleep."

"We could, y'know." Natasha said, rocking back on her knees but stubbornly not moving from her perch.

"Mmm… you're a terrible influence, Romanoff." He said, punctuating his words with a generous squeeze of her ass.

"Mmm. Do I need to beg for forgiveness again?"

"I never said it was a bad thing." He said, drawing her face down to his and kissing the tip of her nose. "Come on. I bet Laura's already started on breakfast. Let's go earn our keep."

***

**Author's Note:**

> Come flail with me on Tumblr @littlethingwithfeathers.


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